


Remembrance

by TigerShinigami



Category: Bleach
Genre: 13th division fam, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant - Bleach Chapter 686 - Death & Strawberry, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romance, awkward public speaking, workaholic rukia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerShinigami/pseuds/TigerShinigami
Summary: One year after the war, Rukia struggles with the loss of her captain and the burden of leading a division.Ichigo decides to take matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Abarai Renji & Kuchiki Rukia, Kuchiki Rukia & Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

Ichigo had decided he would not think about her. 

He would not think of her last visit to the human world and the time they spent eating lunch, which was followed by ice cream. He would not think about their last conversation over the strange phone line that connected them across worlds. And he would not think about how it had been two months and three days since he had seen her last. 

He would _not_ think about Rukia Kuchiki. 

Instead, he would focus on being a responsible 17-year-old and make progress on his college applications. He sat in his room, a pile on one side of his desk of brochures and forms from various schools. He had them divided by interest level, with his top choices in one stack separate from the others. It was the result of many days spent researching and speaking with his school advisor. Another key element was scholarship money, which several schools were offering him based on his impressively high grades. 

His performance in school was a miracle unto itself. Doing the work diligently had been easy enough, but it was the unofficial job as a substitute Shinigami and savior of Soul Society that presented a challenge. His grades dipped during those periods. When he fought at night, he’d lack the time or energy to do anything for school the next day. Then there were the days he was gone entirely with Kon left to fill in. The Mod Soul had proven surprisingly reliable when he had to take over Ichigo’s body, posing as him, going about his mundane routine as a teen student. After three years, the ‘incidents’ involving women’s skirts and cleavage was minimal. Ichigo’s reputation intact- mostly. 

He looked up from his desk to glance at the window over his bed. It was unintentional, and it took him several moments to realize that his gaze had shifted away from his paperwork. His brows twitched into a faint scowl before he went back to his applications. 

Five application questions later, he looked over again to the window. This time he stared, longer. Mentally he chastised himself and the way his thoughts kept drifting to it. As if she would climb out of it at any moment, without warning, at eight in the evening. 

He needed to stop thinking about her. 

Ichigo scowled, reaching up to rake a hand through his hair, ruffling it into an unruly mess.

That night he readied for bed, and he caught himself thinking back to the short raven-haired Shinigami that had no place in his thoughts. He would need to focus on other things, he told himself for the hundredth time that evening. _Anything_ else. 

He lay down in his bed and switched off the light. Despite the darkness, the moonlight was enough to make the rest of the room visible. He turned to his side, and saw the window that was over his mattress. He thought of the times it slid open for her to climb through in the early days, when she hid away from his family. 

He grunted in annoyance and turned the other way. 

Dimly, he could make out the closet doors. He saw her sitting in the cramped space wearing his sister’s stolen pajamas, a horror manga in hand. 

He shifted his position on the bed so his gaze went another direction. This time, he saw the bookcase that kept his manga and volumes of Shakespeare. He remembered when she started reading them. She hated the sad endings. 

“Dammit.” 

Ichigo grabbed his second pillow and placed it squarely over his face. 

Several moments passed before he could feel consciousness slipping away. Slowly, gradually, he started to succumb to sleep. 

“Ichigo?” A voice whispered.

He did not respond, his mind lost to the fog. 

“Ichigo?” The voice whispered again, louder. “Oi! Ichigo!” 

“Kon?” He asked blearily. “What is it?”

There was a faint sound of plush fabric and shifting items on his floor. “When is Nee-san coming back?”

Ichigo nearly yelled into his pillow. 

\---

Rukia was running. 

She ran down the grassy hill as fast as she could move without shunpo. There were sounds coming from behind her, but she was only faintly aware of them over the sound of her own heartbeat thudding in her ears, and the uneven panting of her breath. The raindrops continued to fall in sheets that soaked her to the bone. Narrowly, she managed to avoid tripping over a rock on the ground that she barely noticed. Her mind was racing yet was overruled by a single thought, a driven command that she clung to with every fiber of her being. 

_Run!_

But as she ran the tendrils of doubt began to creep in, amongst the fear, the frigid fear that ran in her veins. Fear of petty things such as judgement and rejection. She was afraid. She was a coward. 

Time accelerated, and suddenly she was standing there with fresh, thick, warm blood covering her and soaking her already wet kimono. Kaien whispering in her ear. Words she did not deserve. A grateful, calm tone that was all wrong as her sword still pierced him through. In the cold rain, she could feel the hot air of his breath as it tickled her neck. His still warm hand as it was lifted to press against her back in an imitation of an embrace. She stiffened. 

“Thanks to you, Kuchiki…”

By then she started to tremble. His words were almost drowned out by the sound of rain, by the sound of her still thundering heartbeat. She mustered the courage to glance over at him-

Then she was sitting in her room at the Kuchiki manor, panting. She cast a look about the darkened room, but it was only a brief second before she recognized where she was and the acknowledgement of reality. Then she was calm, resigned. 

She accepted it readily enough as she did the other nights. It depended on what nightmare plagued her. She had grown to dislike some more than others, though it could not be helped.

That dream had plagued her for nearly thirty years already. She had grown more used to it than the others, and it was fitting for her to be reminded of it, of her actions. 

Experience had shown her the folly in trying to return to sleep afterwards. 

Rukia rose from her bedding and made her way outside to the Kuchiki manor grounds as she always did. She walked about, briefly, before deciding to climb the tallest tree in the far north corner of the gardens. She walked her normal route, barefoot, picking her way in a hidden footpath of her own creation. 

Undaunted by the tree’s height, she almost skipped up the branches with light, precise steps. The motions came to her easily. She had the advantage of a life on the streets, scampering across rooftops and trees in Inuzuri. This tree was familiar to her, memorized by the many nights she had repeated the ritual. It was a tradition born out of necessity and not of choice. Still, there was a serene comfort in it. She would sense the urge to simply _climb_ , to go higher, to see how high she could go wherever she was. It was fortunate no one had asked her about her habit. She doubted she would be able to explain.

Climbing took only a moment. She hardly looked at the branches to know the footholds and handholds. Then she sat on her customary limb.

Located on the edge of the manor, the tree provided an overview into other nearby buildings and courtyards. If there was moonlight, she could sometimes see the distant buildings devoted to the Gotei 13, and further still the mountains and forests beyond. That night, the air was damp. A slight breeze gently blew. It was a welcome relief, which cooled her from the beads of sweat that had formed on her brow and neck. 

It was not long before the panic of her nightmare faded away, carried off by the caress of the breeze. She was not harried or frightened. Rather, she stared forward with a calm, empty look into nothingness. An acceptance, resignation. In those rare moments born from wounds of the past, the fire of her spirit would dim to a mere flicker. 

That night, like all the others, she sat in silence and stared into the dark abyss. 

\- To Be Continued - 


	2. Chapter 2

Rukia’s office in the Thirteenth Division was considered hazardous by some who visited it. Stacks of papers littered her desk and the surrounding furniture, a haphazard system that appeared chaotic to anyone else. The occasional empty or half-cup of tea sat hidden around the papers. The paper stacks stretched from wall to wall in piles of every height, and there was enough white filling the room it could have been mistaken for snow. 

Despite it, Rukia was aware of what papers would go where and what each section of papers held. She was organized, despite the doubts of Kiyone and Sentaro. There was little choice in the matter. 

Her work as a lieutenant seemed distant and minor in comparison. Serving as acting captain for an entire division was a daunting, never-ending task. It was akin to climbing upwards on a sheer cliffside and finding it impossible to leave the ground. The end was a fugitive, scarce thing which liked to scamper away whenever she neared it. Chasing it took everything from her, drained her, unsatiated even by her best efforts. But she did not complain. 

Rukia sat at her desk and struggled to read a particular sentence on a form. Her eyes scanned it for a third time, but she realized it was a futile effort. A sigh escaped her lips, and she allowed herself to lean on the wooden surface to rest her head on her propped up hands. Slowly, her eyes slipped closed. It would only be a brief moment of rest and nothing more. It was unbecoming for an officer- particularly a Kuchiki- to take such things as naps. 

Her mind slipped into the void for an unknown amount of time. A falling sensation violently woke her, and she jerked her head up from her hands and blinked. She looked quickly around the room to regain her sense of time. A nearby clock said it had only been eight minutes, to her relief. 

She let out another sigh, this time rubbing her eyes with her palms. Her afternoon tea offered a small amount of caffeine that would usually help her stay awake until dinner. Unfortunately, it only worked to a certain extent. She must have been more tired that day than she realized. 

There was a stack of reports detailing the abilities and battle levels of all members of the division. She knew they needed to be reviewed by the end of the day, and had accepted she would work late to do so. She would need to decide if she would take dinner in her office or if she would join her brother for dinner at the estate, and return to her work after. Each day she made the decision based on the previous one- she would not leave her brother to dine alone more than twice a week. Outwardly, he appeared understanding of her limited schedule. But she knew there was displeasure lurking under his calm facade. She would not dishonor him if she could help it. 

When was the last time she joined him for a meal? Was it yesterday, or earlier in the week? It was difficult to remember.

Idly she doodled in the margins of some finished papers, using the pastel bunny-theme pen she had gotten from the living world. She drew a cartoon bear, then a rabbit. 

There was the sound of footsteps nearing the door. Third-seats Kiyone and Sentaro made a beeline for her office door, running neck and neck in their customary race. “Lieutenant Abarai is here,” they said in unison from either side. It was amazing how they never tired of that particular race with how often Renji visited. 

“Ah… Thank you,” Ruia said. They nodded briefly before stepping away to return to their duties in the nearby office.

Renji’s familiar form then filled the doorway. “Yo,” He said as he leaned against the doorframe with a raised arm. He had a casual demeanor, as he always did in his visits, that Rukia suspected to be somewhat forced. 

She blinked in an attempt to ward off the lingering feeling of sleep. She resisted sighing, and mentally chastised herself for the annoyance she felt at that moment. It was not fair to Renji, who she knew always visited her out of concern and with good intentions. But she did not feel like speaking with a friend at that moment- particularly one who looked at her with such worry, which almost bordered on pity. He meant well and cared for her as a friend, she would remind herself on such days. 

“What is it, Renji?” she asked, careful to keep any signs of frustration from her tone.

“Just wanted to come by,” he said. “Some of us Lieutenants were gonna go out tonight to eat. You wanna come?”

She looked down at the papers on her desk, though she did not read the words. Rukia sighed. “I do not have the time. Besides, I must dine with Nii-sama tonight. I have missed it for two days, now.”

“Again?” He asked. She looked up at him and could not fully fight the annoyance that welled up in her. “Yeah, that’s what you said the last five times,” he said. 

“It is important to Nii-sama. I will not dishonor him. It’s not my fault there is so much to be done. I am merely being responsible,” she said, the annoyance and frustration no longer confined securely to her mind. It was seeping out now, gradually poisoning her words and her expression, which she dimly noticed. Rukia looked up at him directly. 

“Even your brother would want you to go and take a break.”

She paused in thought, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Did Nii-sama ask you to do this?”

He jerked backwards at the question, only slightly. “That’s not-”

She leveled a look at him, fully awake now, with intensity. “Was that your plan? Have you worked together on this?”

“No! Your brother has nothing to do with this. I just thought-”

“I do not need to be coddled, Renji. What is it?” She continued to stare at him pointedly, unrelenting. “If there is something you wish to say, say it to me directly.”

He hesitated, and she wondered if her words came out harsher than she intended. “We might’ve talked about ya... a little. We’re just worried about ya,” he said in a softer tone. His eyes narrowed, a frown coming to his face. He glanced away. “ _I’m_ worried about ya.”

She vaguely noticed his strange expression, but she was too tired to give pause. “I am fine,” she said easily, the words repetitive and familiar in recent months. “I am not a child to be looked after.”

“Yer not fine, dammit! How long are ya gonna keep this up? When was the last time ya actually got some rest? Ya can’t live like this!” Renji leaned forward as his voice grew in volume. 

Rukia flinched. Whatever emotions she felt in response were faint, mere whispers through the fog of tiredness. It was numbing, in a way, and part of her was thankful for it. 

A retort came to her, the words unbidden behind her lips, that she knew would wound him enough for him to leave. Words that were biting, cruel. But unwarranted. Words that risked reopening the old chasm between them and would push him away for far longer than the afternoon. The thought lingered in her mind, unspoken, a tempting but evil spirit that would never die through the passage of time. It was born of her own wounds, her loneliness and grief, of forty years left alone to face a new life as a noble and an unseated Shinigami. 

Her forgiveness and mercy kept it at bay. But it still lived on to haunt her in times of weakness. It threatened to make itself known, lurked and paced for the moment when her guard was down and she would lash out in pain. 

It took every ounce of her resolve to keep herself from speaking those words and wounding him beyond repair. 

Instead, she looked at him and firmly said, “I do not need you to take care of me, Renji.” 

He visibly took a step backwards and could not conceal the faint pain he felt. She could see it easily in his eyes, despite his paltry effort at hiding it. 

Almost imperceptibly she faltered, regretting her words which sounded harsher than she meant. She mentally reviewed a simple kido spell as a calming technique. 

“I know you don’t,” he said. “But I hate see’n you like this.” His voice was calmer, gentle. 

“If I need your help, I will ask for it,” she said in a softer tone. 

He visibly relaxed, but still opened his mouth to make a reply before closing it. He looked away. “Yeah… whatever.” 

“What?”

“It’s nothin’,” he said. “I just hope you’ll actually say somethin’ to me. Instead of tryin’ to do it by yourself.”

“Fool. I do not ‘try to do it by myself.’ If I need help, I will tell you. I am fine.” she said. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said bitterly, angling himself away from her to look at the side wall. 

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe ya. I know ya better than that, is all,” he said softly and without malice.

Rukia tilted her head forward to look at her desk once again. The adrenaline rush, small as it was, was evaporating like the receding ocean tide leaving drying sand in its wake. In mere moments she could feel herself fatigued, worn. “Must I keep repeating myself? You need not worry about me, Renji. I’m merely tired from the workload- is that so unusual? It’s to be expected as an acting-captain. I am fine.”

He hesitated. “Yeah... If you say so,” he said. 

“I’m sorry... I will not be able to join you tonight. Perhaps another time?” She noticed him watching her closely then, in a strange way she did not understand. “Did you need something else?” 

Renji frowned, his mouth settling into a pressed thin line. “No, It’s fine,” he almost muttered. “See ya,” he said with a casual wave as he passed through the door. 

Rukia watched him go, frowning. There was no energy left for her to think further on the conversation, or mull over words left unsaid. 

She returned to her reports. She struggled to make progress on them for the remainder of the afternoon. 

\---

That day, Ichigo’s classes passed in a vague blur. It was easy enough for him to coast through without drawing attention from teachers, mostly. Although he might have gotten more questions wrong on a quiz than he realized. He would drift in and out of focus between the lectures, interrupted almost on cue by thoughts of past events, then of the ambiguous present and future. 

He made it until lunchtime before someone noticed. His friends were sitting on the roof together as a group, just as they always did. Ever since the war. Keigo was rambling about something small and unimportant that had the group’s attention, which Ichigo did not hear. Instead, he stared at the half-eaten lunch that sat in his lap.

He looked up from his food to see the sky overhead. It was a cloudy day, the sunlight diffused and overcast. Despite it, the last vestiges of spring were giving way for the warmth of summer. Before long the cicadas would start to chirp, and soon enough Ichigo’s family would start bothering him about birthday plans. Among other things.

He wondered what the weather was like in Soul Society, at that very moment. 

“I’m sure she will visit again, Kurosaki,” a nearby voice said. Ichigo was pulled from his thoughts, and noticed Ishida moving to a place beside him. They were sitting slightly detached from the rest of the group who were still engrossed in conversation. 

“What are you talking about?” Ichigo said dismissively. 

He didn’t like the knowing smirk that Ishida had. “I’m sure Kuchiki-san will visit again, if that’s what you’re wondering about. “

Ichigo raised an arm to scratch at the back of his neck.”What makes you think I’m worried about that?” 

“It’s obvious. You did the same thing when she was gone for a year. You do realize it’s different now, right?” The small, knowing smirk was maddeningly still in place. 

He scoffed. “I’m not worried about anything,” Ichigo said casually. “She’s got her own life to worry about, anyway.”

“Perhaps,” Ishida said, skeptically.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just surprised,” he said. 

Ichigo could feel the rising urge to wipe the smug, knowing smirk off of Ishida's face. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought you would have no trouble visiting _her_ , by now, if you’re so worried.”

“I’m not worried!” Ichigo yelled in irritation, and suddenly all eyes were on him. He looked up to find all of them staring at him. He scowled. 

\---

Ichigo was worried. 

He was thankful for the solitude as he walked home. He didn’t need to feign paying attention to anyone or try to focus on taking notes, at least. But it was a dual-edged sword in that he was alone with his thoughts completely. And he was worried. 

He paused on the sidewalk and reached into his bookbag, pulling out the special spirit phone given to him by Soul Society. He flipped it open, checking the display for any sign of a message or missed call. There was none. 

He frowned, and shoved it roughly back into his bag. 

Plenty of friends would have absences between seeing one another. That was common enough even in the living world with normal living situations. What did it matter that he hadn’t been able to get through to Rukia for three weeks? That she hadn’t visited for over two months?

The reason that she was ‘busy with work’ was unremarkable in and of itself, but that didn’t stop Ichigo from dwelling on it. It started to gnaw at him more as time passed. And it was getting harder and harder to think of anything else, or get anything done. 

It was the consequences of a long-distance friendship between people living very different lives, with very different responsibilities. They separately had a plethora of things to worry about. People to help. Ichigo had told himself this many times. But believing it, letting it reassure him, was something different. It was only expected given what had happened in the past. It didn’t matter how much things had changed after the war and that she promised to keep visiting.

She had been absent before. For a year and a half, when he had lost his powers and was sentenced to a typical human life, she did not visit him once. He remembered it well, yet it was an indistinguishable haze. Specific things lingered in his memory of that time such as walking by the river, standing on his rooftop, keeping his window cracked open. Small, pointless things that he felt stupid for doing. But he remembered the things he did, even if they were in vain. His life as a student and brother were a faint memory lost in the fog. Ichigo doubted he could mention anything specific that happened. It was a good thing no one had asked. 

He hated how everything else so effortlessly moved on without her. 

It was maddening, and he felt alone in his insanity of what only he seemed to realize. _She’s not here, doesn’t anyone else care?!_ He wanted to shout at the world. 

But his life was different from back then. She promised she would visit, now, and that she would never abandon him again. 

He trudged forward on the sidewalk and made his way home. 

As the hours passed something started to build inside of him. An undeniable restless urge, reminiscent of past years, that made it hard to physically sit still. As if there was someone in danger in need of rescue. The sense that he was needed. He wasn’t sure why, or what he needed to do. But the urge was there, and it only grew as the hours passed.

That night, sitting at his desk and avoiding homework and college applications, he finally decided to stop resisting the inevitable. 

“Hey, Kon,” he called calmly. 

From a corner on the floor, Kon looked up from reading a magazine. “Eh? What is it?”

“I’m going to take a trip over the weekend,” he said, still staring forward at his desk. It was another moment before he turned, draping an arm over the back of his chair. “I’ll need you to stand in for me for a couple of days.”

This piqued Kon’s interest, who visibly perked up. “Eh? Where are you-” He stopped, his jaw dropping in shock. “You’re going to visit Nee-san, aren’t you?! That’s not fair, you can’t visit her without me!”

“Yeah, I can. I need you to take care of everyone here.” 

“But… But…!” Kon whined. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen her!” He puffed out his chest, placing both paws on his hips. “You just want her for yourself!” It was a challenge, a declaration. Kon glared with as much as intensity he could muster as a twelve inch plushie on the floor. 

“Shut up! That’s not it. I’m just going to check on her. I’m sure she’ll come visit later, anyway,” Ichigo partly mumbled, trying to sound casual. 

“You’d better bring her back to see me, Ichigo!” He went limp, the strength leaving him. He stared at the ground. “I miss Nee-san…”

Ichigo scowled and ran a hand through his hair, hoping Kon wouldn’t start crying. Again. “She’ll be back, alright? Stop whining, she’s just busy with work.” 

“Excuses, excuses!” Kon yelled, his voice shrill and loud. “I deserve to see her more than you! If anyone should go, it should be _me!_ ”

“You’ll see her _later-”_

Footsteps approached the door, before it opened to reveal his sister Karin’s irritated face. “Can you keep it down? Some of us are trying to get things done.”

She regarded Ichigo and Kon with a deadpan expression, not in the least fazed by the sight. It was another result of the end of the war and the secrets that came to light. His family knew what they really were, what potential they had. They knew about the larger world of spirits and Shinigami. It made life considerably easier for Ichigo. He didn’t have to hide any of it anymore. 

It also meant that Kon, his ability to fill in for Ichigo, and visits to Soul Society were all regular parts of life for the Kurosaki family. 

“Tell that to Ichigo, the big bully,” Kon said. His voice grew more frustrated, almost growling the words. “He’s going to see Nee-san without me!”

Karin processed the information, then regarded Ichigo with a knowing look. “So, you’ve finally decided to visit her. It’s about time.”

Ichigo blanched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been sulking around for weeks now. It’s driving Yuzu and Dad crazy. And you keep zoning out when you help me with homework,” Karin said factually. 

Down the hall, Yuzu called out in concern. “Is everything okay?” She yelled. 

Ichigo bit back a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, everything’s-”

“Ichi-Nii’s going to visit Rukia-san,” Karin called. 

There was a sound of happy acknowledgement beyond the doorway. Yuzu practically skipped into the room, slightly out of breath. “Really?! Oh, I’m so glad!” 

“Stop- just stop! It’s not a big deal,” he said in a vain attempt at downplaying it. To stay casual, cool. No sooner had he said the first word did he instantly slide into embarrassment, his voice flustered and higher pitched. 

“You should’ve gone weeks ago, we wondered why you were waiting so long,” Yuzu said. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time!” 

Ichigo hadn’t planned for it to be this way. He was taking a firm stand for a friend, taking action and defying whatever might get in the way of helping her. Going against the odds to do what was right. And, maybe, even look cool while doing it- though he barely acknowledged that part to himself, nevermind anyone else. 

That part of his plan was rapidly failing, with his sisters and Kon in the room all gushing over him visiting Rukia. Ichigo wasn’t sure how it could get any worse. 

His father appeared in the doorway. 

“What’s this? Is my son going to visit my third daughter?” He asked with a hand placed to his chin, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Staying overnight?"

Yuzu stared at her father, appalled. She gasped. "Do you think-"

Ichigo could feel his face flush and his anger build. “Shut up! It’s not _like_ that!” He was shouting back at them now, his voice shrill. “Get out!” He flailed an arm in the air like he could shoo them away.

“Really, Ichi-Nii, you don’t need to make a big deal out of it,” Karin said in a matter-of-fact tone. She calmly turned to leave. 

“It’s- It’s not a big deal,” Ichigo tried to insist, but it was pathetic and weak to his own ears. 

“My son, I’m so proud!” Isshin said. 

Ichigo kicked him hard enough to send him through the doorway, narrowly missing Yuzu. “Shut up, old man! Get out!”

Yuzu frowned. "Nii-san, do you need me to cut your hair? It's getting a little long. You'll want to look your best!"

"I…" Ichigo started, before a wave of insecurity and doubt rushed over him unexpectedly. “I’m fine, Yuzu. Don’t worry about it!”

“If you say so…” she said doubtfully. She stopped upon seeing Kon, visibly remembering something. “Ah, Kon-chan, Could you help me? I’ve dropped my earring under the dresser, again.”

Kon stopped to blink as if he couldn’t believe her. Then he puffed out his chest, proud and determined. “Of course! Anything to help a damsel in need!” She knelt down onto the floor. Kon ran forward and scampered up onto her shoulder with familiar ease, sitting there and pointing a paw forwards. “Let’s go!” He practically shouted with all the focus and force of a general leading men into battle. 

Yuzu smiled and waved at Ichigo. “Goodnight! Oh, don’t forget to say goodbye to us before you leave!” 

He waved lazily at her. “Night.” 

Ichigo had a strange feeling of gratitude towards Kon, which wasn’t entirely out of place in recent years. The part-of-the-family relationship that had developed between the loud Mod Soul and his sisters still felt odd to him despite the years that passed. It could’ve been worse- the soul was a pervert when it came to women, but thankfully he still saw the siblings as actual sisters. Somehow. 

Quiet filled the room once again. The building feeling inside of him was still present, but it had dulled to a distant noise rather than a roar. He only had hours before he’d be able to visit Soul Society and finally make sure everything was alright.

Rukia wouldn’t be visiting anytime soon. He knew that, and he knew why. 

But damn if he was going to keep going through his days without her. 

\- To Be Continued - 


	3. Chapter 3

It was a chilly morning when they requested Rukia’s presence. It was not entirely unexpected, given the recovering state of Soul Society in the wake of the war, and the many gaps left in the chain of command. Several Captains had been lost to treason or battle. She and the other acting-captains had attended many meetings in the effort to rebuild. The situation was temporary, they knew, until new captains would be appointed. Direction and leadership were sorely needed within the sparse and empty ranks. But the Gotei 13 continued to move at a languid pace. Tradition lay at the heart of the Seireitei, an unyielding fact that would not change even in the shadow of tragedy and a world turned upside down. Tradition paid no mind of the rubble and destruction still easily visible among barracks and training grounds. 

Rukia was not given an agenda for the meeting that day, leaving her with nothing to prepare for. It was a disadvantage in more ways than one. If it was a matter of records or planning, she could review paperwork and form notes ahead of time. But there was also the comfort of building a mental defense, of bracing oneself for whatever questions or news would come. Instead, they had told her nothing. It did not sit well with her, and she resisted the urge to speculate freely as to the cause. There were many things, small or otherwise, that could prompt it. 

She neared the meeting hall at the requested time. Her years as a Kuchiki, of enduring scrutiny of seemingly all around her, served her well as it always did. Mentally she reviewed a basic Kido spell, a calming technique, before entering the First Division meeting hall. 

The door slid open to reveal the Captains aligned in the room. To her surprise, the other Lieutenants, serving as acting-captains or otherwise, were not present. Instead the captains loomed before her, blanketed in white, and they turned to watch her as she entered.

She stopped in her steps. It was for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to expose her uncertainty and weakness, she knew, and mentally berated herself for it. She took the smallest of breaths and squared her shoulders, her posture rigid and upright. She reviewed another kido spell in her mind. It did little to calm her. 

As Rukia entered the room she was careful not to meet their eyes directly, save for the briefest of moments. As she walked the Lieutenant badge felt unusually heavy and loose where it was tied to her arm. She fought the urge to reach over and adjust it, all too aware of the many eyes that seemed fixated on her every movement. 

She took her position where the Thirteenth captain typically stood. It was a simple action, but it was strangely foreign, daunting. She was suddenly aware of the chasm between her and the nearby captains, and how small she was in that place compared to the man who should have been there.

She could not afford to dwell on such things, or let doubt linger and fester. They had called her there for a reason. She would focus on that. 

She did not need to wait long. The news descended on her quickly, a small but effective blow she was not prepared for. There was a tightness in her chest, and it was with effort that she kept her expression calm and collected. She clung to the Kuchiki mask that served her so well over the years. She flinched, despite it. 

Captain-Commander Kyoraku had given her a faint, apologetic smile from across the hall. Meanwhile, her brother stood as stoic and poised as before. She fought the urge to look towards him for support and directed her gaze elsewhere.

The meeting had been weeks ago. Yet the memory stubbornly resided in her mind with clarity, unmoving. It often came to her when visiting the Thirteenth Division shrine.

Once every week, Rukia would stop her work at two o’clock in the afternoon to visit the shrine. It was a sacred ritual to her in so many ways, and she would respect the structure of it. Each time there would be two cups of tea, still hot, left by Kiyone and Sentaro. 

Rukia would approach and take her customary seat. She would sit formally, facing the shrine itself and the portraits featured there. Incense would already burn from holders on either side, the thin wisps of smoke curling upwards as if to frame it. It smelled of hardwood and lavender, she knew from experience, but she had long grown desensitized to it. 

Each time, she would bow her head for a moment of respect. Then, she would take one of the cups of tea and calmly sip in silence. 

Some days she would stare at the portraits and study their features. She would look closely at each and every detail, grasping at the images and the memories which threatened to fade with the passage of time. Sometimes questions would press at her, and she pushed away the temptation to speak them to the portraits directly. 

But on other days, she would merely stare at the greenish liquid swirling in her cup, unable to level her gaze at the Captain and Lieutenant pictured there. Their eyes would stare at her, unrelenting, and she would struggle to keep her nerve. But it was foolish to think such things, for they were only portraits, she knew. 

That day it was the latter, as it almost always was. Ruka knew she lacked the right to meet their stares. Her gaze remained downcast at the ground through partially closed eyes. It had been some time since she had the courage or strength to look back at them. 

Once she finished her tea, she rose from her position and bowed. 

She resumed working in her office. The caffeine from the tea helped somewhat in staying awake. Still, it wasn’t long before the lure of sleep began to call. She hardened her resolve to resist it, focusing even more on the assignment proposal in front of her.

Focusing on something else would help awaken her mind. She started to draw on a piece of scrap notepaper, etching in ink a rabbit wearing a flowy dress. She drew a castle, as she had seen in stories of the living world. There was a dragon. Then, a prince- 

She paused, noticing the purple pen in her hand with the white bunny design on it, an item from the living world. There was a store they would always visit, a 'one hundred yen store' as it was known, but she could rarely remember the name. They had taken to calling it _the_ store. It was a very large store with items of every kind one could think of. It also had many items that one _didn’t_ think of, and found themselves needing only after seeing them on display. Ichigo and his sisters always knew what Rukia meant when she mentioned _the_ store.

They had visited it that day, as they had so many times in the past. She had browsed the office section idly as Ichigo looked for school supplies for himself and his sisters. Rukia had picked up the bunny pen to study it- she was merely curious, but could not admit to how cute she found the pen outwardly. It had only been a moment before Ichigo easily plucked it from her hand and placed it in the basket. She blinked in surprise, and before she could react he had moved to the end of the aisle. He complained that she was taking too long, that if she wanted something she should just tell him. She retorted that he was not taking long enough. The fool. 

Sitting at her desk, pen in hand, she smiled faintly. 

It had been far, far too long since she had seen him last. It had been some time since they even spoke. She had meant to remedy that, many times, but work was a perpetual distraction. When was the last time they talked to one another? She frowned, realizing with dismay she couldn’t remember. It was foolish of her not to do so. 

Rukia sighed. She rearranged the papers on her desk, a pointless exercise in an attempt to stay productive. She could not let her mind wander about such things. She could not spend her time thinking about him, or wondering how he was, and how his life had been. She would not think of his upcoming application for colleges and if he had decided where he would go. She could almost hear him faintly, in the distance. Was she so tired that she imagined sounds? Was it a vivid daydream?

Distantly, there was a loud sound. It was outside of the room but inside the building. There was a shout, then another yell, both of which sounded like Sentaro. Another yell, then sounds of running and more yelling. 

It stopped. 

It was quiet, a roaring absence of sound that was more worrisome than reassuring. Rukia glanced toward the door but found a stack of papers blocked her view. She leaned to the side to see around it. Still unable to see, she leaned aside further, causing her chair to shift balance onto one pair of legs. The chair creaked with the movement. She frowned, her eyes fixated on the paper and wood door. 

She listened. 

There was nothing, save for her faint breathing. 

Another moment passed.

There was another sound, faint, outside the room, like something knocking against wood. 

Then there was yelling and shouting again, multiple voices and muffled words that swirled and blended together beyond recognition. They grew in volume, rising steadily as they drew near-

The door flew open to reveal Ichigo, his eyes focused and alight, the very epicenter of chaotic energy. “Oi! Rukia!”

She jumped. The motion tipped her chair even further, and she let out a high pitched squeal-shout as she was sent careening to the ground. Her face was against the floor, arms tangled beneath her in a heap of limbs and shihakusho.

"Rukia!" Ichigo rushed to her position behind the desk. "Are you okay?!"

Rukia started to rise, collecting herself from the hardwood. In a daze, she peered up at him in disbelief. “...Ichigo…!” 

“Are you okay, Rukia?!”

She continued to stare at Ichigo, blinking, and questioned if she had fallen asleep and was having a strange dream. Then she lobbed a punch to his gut. It was sloppy due to the awkward angle and her position on the ground. He grunted, but otherwise stayed as he was.

She glared. “Fool! What are you doing?! You cannot burst in without warning-”

Sentaro and Kiyone appeared in the doorway, panting and out of breath. “L-Lieutenant Kuchiki…” Kiyone rasped. 

“It’s… Kurosaki…!” Sentaro said between breaths. 

Rukia gave a loud, frustrated sigh. “Yes… I am aware,” she said. She started the process of extracting herself from her chair and the floor. Ichigo hovered over her in concern, though he did not force his help on her. It was the right decision. “It is alright. You can go,” she said. The two officers departed, noisily bickering as they went.

“Ah… Sorry,” Ichigo said. He frowned, clearly concerned, even as she stood upright and brushed dirt off her hakama. “Are you okay?”

“It is only a bruise,” she said easily and dismissively. She looked at him, then, and despite her annoyance found him a welcome sight. Even the clueless, worried expression he wore, and the overprotectiveness she could see in his eyes. It was so very familiar. So very comfortable.

She fought the urge to smile, if for the sake of her pride. 

It was surreal seeing him so suddenly in her office. It was also unusual for her not to sense his arrival, perhaps a consequence of her tired state. “What in the world are you doing here?”

His obvious worry faded. He frowned, his brows furrowing in his typical scowl. “What kind of question is that? I came to visit you... I don’t hear from you for weeks, and that’s what you’ve got to say?!”

She paused, frowning. “Yes… That’s right. It has been some time,” she admitted. She tried to remember how long it had been since she visited the living world, or had spoken with him. The answers eluded her.

“Yeah…” He said, calmer then. “So I came to do something about it.”

“You can’t merely come here unannounced,” she said in a meager attempt at being gruff. “I have work to do, still.” Despite her words, she found herself smirking in return, unable to fight it. 

He scoffed. “I wouldn’t have to if you called every once in a while. You haven’t been picking up your phone.”

She stopped to think of where it was. Various possible places came to mind, with different levels of plausibility. She leaned over and opened a drawer on the left side of her desk. Blindly she reached into it, feeling around, and was thankful to pull out the spirit phone. Flipping it open, she read the display which cited many missed calls.

She frowned idly. “Hm. It looks like the ringer was turned off.”

Ichigo’s eyebrow twitched. “That’s it? That’s why?! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks!”

“I merely forgot I changed the setting. I have been busy with work- there is no need to be so dramatic,” she said. 

Her calm words only encouraged his manic behavior and the irritation in his voice. “I’m not being dramatic! What did you expect me to think? If you picked up once in a while, I wouldn't have to come all the way here!”

She opened her mouth for a retort, then thought better of it, and instead smirked. Slight deviousness crept into her expression, her eyes narrowing in amusement. “I see. So you were worried about me?”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “I didn’t say that.”

“You did not need to.”

“It’s not just me. Everyone’s been wondering about you. Kon won’t shut up about it. Karin, Yuzu… Even my old man wondered where you’ve been,” he said. 

Her smirk faded. “I’m sorry. I know… it has been too long,” she admitted, sober. “I had meant to visit sooner. But there has been much to do, here.” 

There was a pause. Ichigo shrugged. “Yeah… I can see that.” His eyes wandered around the room, blinking at the sight. “This place is a mess… It’s worse than my room when Kon’s been in control for a while.”

Rukia snorted. “I have a system. I know where everything is,” she said. “I can find anything that I need.”

“How do you get anything done? There’s barely room to walk around.” 

“There is plenty of room. Perhaps you are the one with a problem?” 

Despite his words, he turned to look at her. His gaze held for a moment as the faintest of smiles came to his face. “No, it’s definitely you.”

She folded her arms. “Filing systems do not merely appear out of thin air, nor are they easy to implement. There wasn’t time for it.”

“Yeah, that’s an excuse," he said.

“Fool! It is not! I have been far too busy with duties of the division. I don’t have time for file sorting. Neither do officers Kotetsu and Kotsubaki,” she said.

Ichigo moved to a corner of the room that held a shelf that was overflowing with papers, bound booklets, and various styles of writing utensils. He looked at the items in mild interest. “It’s not that hard, you just have to be consistent about it.” 

“Did you plan to come here and complain? I still have work to do today. I will not be finished until this evening. Don’t touch that,” she ordered, upon seeing Ichigo start to pick up a precariously balanced stack of empty teacups. 

He froze, much like a child would when caught at a cookie jar. She could almost see the gears turning in his head, the realization that he had no plan in coming there and how he would spend his time. It did not surprise her. He shrugged. “Okay. I’ll just hang out here.”

Rukia made a faint sound in the back of her throat, incredulous and struggling for a reply. She thought it should have been obvious to her from the start. It was truly like him to rush forward without any care for a plan. Such things were minor details to him, undoubtedly, which he had not so much as thought of until that moment. Reading him was not difficult. He was predictable in his determination and the ferocity of his actions. That part of him would never change, it seemed. 

“Idiot!” she shouted, ”You can not simply ‘hang out’ here. What will you do? It will be at least two hours. We can visit after I’m done. Perhaps you can bother someone in the Eleventh?”

“I didn't come to visit them! Besides, they'll just want to fight me. That’s all they want to do. That and drink, I guess.”

She sat at her desk and made a show of reading a stack of paperwork. “That is not my problem.”

Ichigo asserted that he was, indeed, _her_ problem by plopping down in a nearby chair. She moved her head up the slightest of angles to watch him. He looked at a nearby bookshelf where she kept some books from the living world. 

She returned to her work and mentally urged herself to focus. It would be a test of her resolve. 

She managed to read three sentences. 

“Hang on…” Ichigo said as he looked at the books. “I have a lot of these…”

Rukia carefully kept her head tilted down, her expression neutral. “Is that so?” She kept her eyes on the paper in front of her, appearing to read it. 

Moments passed. She remained still, and fought the urge to glance at him in case it would appear suspicious. 

“Hey... These are mine! You took them from my room!” he said. 

She remained carefully focused on her work. Outwardly, at least. “If it has taken you so long to notice, you must not have missed them.” It had taken over two years for her to gradually build her collection. The majority of them had come from Ichigo’s room. Part of her was surprised it had taken him so long to notice, or to wonder why he had to replace so many lost books. 

“That’s not the point! You can’t just go around taking things,” he complained. 

“If you would like to borrow them, I will lend them to you,” she smirked. 

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not borrowing my own books!”

“Then I will keep them. It is that simple,” she said easily. “Now, will you be quiet? I’m trying to finish my work for the day.” 

Ichigo grumbled under his breath, but otherwise folded his arms and settled into the chair. He took a book from the shelf- _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , she noted- before he opened it and began to read. 

She looked at him, discreetly, and smiled. 

\- To Be Continued - 


End file.
